


La Machine du Moulin Rouge

by YaBoiBellabean



Series: La Rockstar [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Lemon, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaBoiBellabean/pseuds/YaBoiBellabean
Summary: After being passed up for a promotionagain, Alya drags Marinette out from the comfort of her blanket burrito and JRPGs toParty Like Americans™at La Machine du Moulin Rouge. Things get hot when Marinette runs into her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Rockstar Himself™. Why did they break up again?Normal Life AULukanette with a small sprinkle of AlyaNino, because I love them
Relationships: Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: La Rockstar [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908115
Comments: 20
Kudos: 119





	La Machine du Moulin Rouge

**Author's Note:**

> _Avaler le Poisson Rouge_ is French for Swallow the Goldfish. In case anyone was wondering. Because that's why everyone is here. _ahem_

The world was ending on a Friday and Marinette was particularly surprised and, frankly, quite unhappy about this. 

The world had no business ending on a perfectly good Friday evening. Why couldn’t it have ended on a Monday or a Tuesday? Both of those days were full of pencil pushing and deadlines. Hell, even Wednesday would’ve been acceptable. Thursday was up in the air because it was the day before the much anticipated final day of work⸺but it was still leagues better than a _Friday_. 

The Apocalypse™ on a Friday? Life was totally unfair. 

Marinette had been coaxed out of her house by her best friend, Alya, with promises of getting work off of her mind and not having to pay for anything. Apparently wrapping herself into a nest of blankets and playing JRPGs back-to-back all week long wasn’t a healthy way of coping with being passed up for a promotion. 

So here she was, dressed in a sequined halter top and black skinny jeans, standing awkwardly at the bar, while Alya, in her orange bodycon dress, ordered tic-tac drop shots. She turned to Marinette and grinned, handing the first one to her. “We’re going to party like Americans tonight, Marinette.”

Marinette held up the shot glass of vodka with one hand and the half pint of orange juice and Red Bull in the other. “Party like _Americans_? Right,” she nervously laughed and waited for her friend to ready her drink. The two women counted down together and dropped the shot glass into the mix and drank it as fast as they could. 

Was it just her or was the music getting louder? She wasn’t drunk enough for this and she wasn’t sure how this was any healthier than sitting at home alone in the dark, playing video games and eating packages of Oreos. “You need a couple more drinks to loosen up,” Alya winked, flagging down the bartender. “You’re going to go find a cute guy and you’re going to dance with him.”

Oh god. That meant Nino was going to be there soon and either she could find someone to keep her company, or she could watch the two of them snog and do everything shy of fucking on the dance floor. “Wasn’t this supposed to be just you and I tonight?” Marinette protested while another shot was pushed into her hand.

“Yeah but,” Alya grinned, “Nino asked me what I was doing tonight and when I told him, he wanted to come along. I’m sorry!”

Marinette groaned and stared down into her shot of whatever it was Alya handed her. “You owe me one!”

“You’re getting a night out with no financial obligation. I don’t think I owe you anything. And besides,” she held up her own shot glass, “I heard that Adrien Agreste, hangs out here. If you could catch his eye, maybe you’ll be able to get a better job!”

Clinking her shot glass with Alya’s, Marinette threw the shot of ⸺ was definitely rum this time ⸺ back. Her nose scrunched and she licked her lips. She probably needed to stick with drinking mixed drinks. After a tic tac, the burn of the rum was too strong. “You and I both know he’s not going to be here, let alone notice me!” She gestured to the dance floor; there were hundreds of people bumping and grinding against each other. 

“Well he might! You _dated for two years_.”

Marinette directed a forced grin toward her best friend and handed her the empty shot glass. “Can we switch to mixed drinks now?”

Alya chuckled and nodded, flagging down the bartender again.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the beautiful Marinette!” Nino exclaimed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Are you ready to get fucked up tonight?”

“I am ready to _Party Like an American™_?” That wasn’t supposed to come out like a question. Oh well. The impending Apocalypse™ was approaching anyway. Why did it matter if she didn't sound confident in her partying attitude?

Nino laughed and patted Marinette’s back. “Atta girl.” He redirected his attention to his girlfriend, snaking his arm around her waist. 

And just like that, Marinette became the third wheel. She shouldn’t have been annoyed; she’d expected it. She should’ve invited Alix or Rose and Juleka or Myléne or even Marc and Nathaniel. Any of them. All of them. She had every opportunity to entirely avoid The Apocalypse™ by inviting someone else, yet here she was. 

Alya handed Marinette _another_ drop shot. “Now Nino’s here! He has to start off his evening right!”

This was their third drink in under twenty minutes and their fourth since the beginning of the night. _All of them shots_. She needed to slow down. After this, she’d slip away. Alya had Nino to distract her so she doubted they’d even really notice. 

The three of them clinked their shot glasses and dropped the vodka into the mix. Marinette finished hers first and approached the bar, setting her glass down. She turned to her friends⸺they were already getting handsy⸺and cleared her throat. “Ahem.” The couple nearly jumped apart as they acknowledged their friend. 

“Sorry!” Alya exclaimed, flashing Marinette a sheepish grin and scratching the back of her neck.

“No big deal!” Marinette replied a little too enthusiastically. She had to get out of there. “I’ve gotta go to the bathroom! I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“See you by three!” Alya called out, waving. “Go get yourself a cute guy!”

Great. By three. That meant Marinette was trapped and couldn’t leave the club _and_ that she was _for sure_ being ditched, which meant her Night on Alya™ was null and void. 

In the bathroom, she adjusted her updo and reapplied her lip gloss. Her makeup was still fine. Maybe Alya was right. Maybe she’d run into Adrien Agreste, her teenage heartthrob. They used to be pretty good friends when they were younger and then more than friends for a couple of years. She didn’t talk to him much anymore; he was an international model and frequently traveled. But maybe she’d see him and he’d recognize her and then they could reconnect, and then make plans to have coffee so that she could get a job with his father’s company and then they’d begin to see each other again and they’d fall in love and have children and two hamsters named Tikki and Plagg. 

Did she really just have that long string of thoughts? She hadn’t thought about him like that since he’d become an _international_ model. Marinette spent _months_ trying to purge Adrien from her thoughts after they'd broken up and it mostly worked. Until Alya brought him up. Ugh.

There was no way the alcohol was kicking in that fast. It’d been half an hour and she’d been careful to eat before she left. It usually took at least forty five minutes for the first drink to hit her, not that Marinette had the habit of drinking. By day she worked and spent time with her parents and by night she worked and played video games. She really only drank when Alya dragged her out of the house and unless it was a Girl’s Night Out™, Marinette was generally stuck as the third wheel. 

Tonight just felt extra bad; she didn’t want to be here in the first place and then being the third wheel just sucked. She didn’t want to get trashed, especially without Alya, because she’d just end up wallowing in self-pity and it’d result in the Real Apocalypse™. 

Marinette left the bathroom and headed back to the bar where she spotted an empty barstool. Sliding into the seat, she rested her cheek in her hand and patiently waited for the bartender to approach her. “Water, please.”

He nodded and slid a pint glass to her. She was not going to wake up feeling like trash, she decided. Maybe when she was 18, but certainly not now. Marinette was 21; she was too old to wake up with a massive hangover and a ruined Saturday. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Jarred from her thoughts, Marinette turned her attention to the familiar voice. Yep. The Apocalypse™. “L-Luka?”

“In the flesh,” he replied with a wink. “So can I buy you a drink?”

Marinette felt a blush creep up her cheeks. She was suddenly feeling very warm; it had to be the alcohol. “What are you doing back in Paris?”

The corners of Luka’s lips tugged upward into a devilish smirk. “We played last night at Noveau Casino. I’m surprised you didn’t know.” He redirected his attention to the bartender and pulled out his wallet. “Short Jameson-Coke for me. And,” he glanced down at Marinette, “Tall Malibu-Pineapple for the lady.”

“You went off with a band after you graduated and you never even bothered to text,” she snorted. “And you think you can just buy me a drink?” 

Luka was the lead guitarist in the punk rock band, _Avaler le Poisson Rouge_. They hit it big when Marinette was just 16 and were offered record deals with multiple companies. Anarka had been so proud, while Rose and Juleka were both sad to have lost their guitarist for their little garage band, Kitty Section.

“Yes,” he coolly replied. “I think you’ll let me.”

Was it just Marinette or was his smolder actually working and _charming_ her?

“You have a lot of catching up to do,” Marinette replied, sipping her water. Things were starting to feel a little...off. The alcohol was definitely starting to kick in. She was a lightweight and the first drink and two shots were hitting her all at once. 

“Maybe,” he replied. “Where’s Alya?”

“Alya?” Marinette frowned. He and Alya weren’t close. She over-gesticulated to the crowd on the dance floor. “There. Somewhere. She brought Nino and ditched me.”

Luka stayed quiet and handed her the drink he’d bought for her. “You want me to catch up to you?”

Marinette nodded. What was she saying? Why would she care if _Luka_ caught up to her? He’d broken her heart when he’d left her! He’d offered to retain their relationship long distance until she’d finished high school, but she didn’t want that. She wanted him to follow his dreams without worrying about her. But the least he could’ve done was _call or even just send a text_. “I knew you were in Paris,” Marinette admitted. “I keep track of your band, you know. But why didn’t you call? You never even told me where you moved to! Everything I know about you I’ve learned from Juleka's Luka Updates™,” she spat.

Luka drained his drink and ordered a long island. “I’m sorry, Mari. I,” he paused and thanked the bartender. “I didn’t think you’d _want_ to see me. Not until I heard from Alya yesterday.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. _Alya_. That was why she’d dragged Marinette out! “Luka, I spent so much time _wishing_ you’d contact me, to let me know you still thought about me, that I meant more to you than a stupid high school fling.” Where was this coming from? The damned alcohol! She didn’t need to participate in Honesty Hour™. She’d spent so much time crying over Luka and had rebounded with Adrien before _he also struck it big_. 

“You’re still the music in my head, Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” he said, finishing up his long island. Marinette had barely sipped on hers. Was he used to pounding drinks?

“You’re just saying that!”

Luka cupped her cheek with his hand, a genuine smile spreading on his lips. “No, I’m really not. I’ve been with other women and none of them compare to you. They all want me because I’m in a band. You’d always wanted me for me.”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare. “You don’t have to tell me about women you’ve slept with, you know.” Did he have _another_ long island in his hand? How was he drinking those so fast? Long islands tasted awful. 

“And you didn’t need to rub it in that you slept with Adrien all over your goddamned Instagram,” he retorted. “You didn’t need to post all those lovey-dovey pictures with him, wearing that peony hairpin.”

“You keep track of my Instagram?” That was what she got from that? That’s how she replied? Why didn’t she apologize? Ugh. And why would she need to apologize to begin with? And the hairpin Adrien had given her? Why would he care? Damned liquor. This is why she hated drinking. She couldn’t think straight; her thoughts devolved into irrational thought patterns.

“Of course I do,” he replied. Was he already halfway done with his third drink? Wasn’t that going to hit him all at once? “You didn’t notice?”

“No,” she admitted. “I don’t keep track of who is following me or who likes my photos.”

“So we’re even then?” he asked, finishing up his drink. He ordered another.

“How are you _drinking_ those _so fast_?”

“Marinette, I’m a rockstar,” he said point blank, a chortle escaping his lips. “I’m not a lightweight. I spent a lot of time drinking you away when you got together with Adrien. If you want me to catch up, I’ve got a few more to go.”

“Let me buy you a drink!”

“Oh no,” Luka said with a wink. “Alya promised you a night you didn’t pay a dime for anything. And besides, as far as I’m concerned, I owe you three years worth of drinks. I’ve missed you, Mari.”

“Hush no more talking,” she pressed a finger to his lips. “No more talking. Just hurry up and get caught up. I want to dance with you before La Machine closes.” Fuck. She was drunk. The Doomsday Clock™ was one-minute until midnight. When did her drink disappear? And did it just refill itself?

Before she knew it, she was dragging her ex out onto the dance floor and pulling him close to her. This had to be a dream. She was definitely wrapped in blankets, asleep on her couch, her controller falling out of her hands. There was no way this was _actually_ happening. 

“I don’t know if I should be dancing with you like this right now,” he rasped, Marinette’s backside rubbing right against his ever growing erection. “You’re drunk.”

She turned around and placed her hands on his hips, grinding up against him. “What did you expect when you came out to meet me at a _club_?”

“To get drunk together and then dance?” 

He was going to give into temptation if Marinette had anything to do with it. Her hands wandered around to the small of his back, fingers tugging at the band of his pants. “And you’re gonna be drunk soon so I don’t see why this is bad. This is normal dancing. We aren’t sleeping together.” _Yet_. 

His hips began grinding into her, hands finding her ass. Luka pulled her closer to him. The things he wanted to do to her; they’d never done anything _dirty_ in high school. But god, the number of times he’d imagined this on the road and in clubs were uncountable. And yet here they were. Her scent was absolutely intoxicating, so much more than he’d ever imagined.

Marinette threw her arm up onto his shoulder, trying to get even closer. Her hips swayed and pressed further into his erection. She hadn’t slept with anyone for two years. Until this moment, she didn't realize how much her body _craved_ this. She felt his warm breath on her neck and shuddered. 

Luka audibly moaned when her hand found his erection; her fingers pressed lightly at first, becoming ever more aggressive with every stroke. The alcohol still hadn’t kicked in for Luka; deep inside he felt so wrong and like he was taking advantage of his ex, yet he couldn’t help but lose himself in her touch, in her scent, in her sex appeal. He couldn’t help but imagine her big forget-me-not eyes looking up at him as she sucked on his co⸺was the alcohol kicking in, or was it his carnal desire for her? 

For Marinette, she'd lost all sense of time. Her vision tunneled into just him. Nothing else mattered except him and her and their bodies grinding together to the beat of the music. She pulled herself up and firmly planted her lips on his. His lips were so _damned soft_. Feeling Luka’s hand cradling the back of her neck, she pressed further and caught his lower lip between hers; she lightly suckled, grazing it with her teeth. She found her fingers tangled in his blue-tipped hair; he gasped as she curled them, tugging ever so gently. Taking his gasp as permission, she tilted her head to the side, slipping her tongue into his mouth.

Luka’s hands explored Marinette’s body, beginning by running his fingers down her back, squeezing her ass again. His reason was leaving him; was it the alcohol? Or was it Marinette? Or was it both? He pulled away from the kiss and turned her around, feeling her ass aggressively rub against his erection. His fingers wandered to her stomach and up, up, up to her breasts. They were so _soft_. He rubbed the pad of this thumb around where he presumed her nipple to be; he couldn’t tell for sure through her bra. 

Marinette’s back arched as she felt him stroke her breasts. Everything he did was perfect. She needed more. She guided his other hand down, down, down, until she felt his black-tipped fingers pressing and rubbing her through her pants. She was so _wet_ ; she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to stay on the dance floor because she _needed_ him in her. 

Fingers sliding through the side of Marinette’s sequined halter, he found his way under her bra. Her nipples were erect, her breast so _supple_. The moan that escaped her lips was almost too much for him to bear. He parted his lips against her neck, tongue darting out. She moaned _his name_. Oh god. The alcohol. The hand on the outside of her pants slid into her pants. He found her clit through her panties and gently rubbed. 

_“Luka,”_ she bucked her hips into his touch. She guided his hand into her panties and felt him gasp and press her closer to his erection. He teased her, middle finger lightly tapping her clit. She reached around and grabbed onto his pants, trying to press herself closer to him. His fingers slid inside of her; she melted into him. 

“Marinette,” he rasped, fingers moving rhythmically to the music. “Marinette, what do you say we get out of here?”

She shook her head. “Too far.” Removing his hand from her pants and shirt, she wrapped her hands around his neck and grinded her hips into his. “Bathroom.”

He nodded, picking her up. Feeling her suck on his neck made him feel like he was going to explode. Now. He needed her now. She was right. Bathroom. No, maybe not bathroom. Too many people. Pinning her to the wall near the edge of the dance floor, he heavily breathed. “I have a better idea. Hold tight.”

Marinette wondered what his better idea was. She wasn’t happy about being left alone against the wall. Things were starting to get _hot_ and all she could think about was him fucking her. 

Luka returned to Marinette and pinned her against the wall once more, pressing his erection into her stomach. “Come on.”

He grabbed her hand and she followed him past a security guard and through a door. The room was quaint, but would serve its purposes. Leagues better than a bathroom Immediately she began tearing his jacket off, fingers finding their way up under his shirt to his _abs_. Why had she expected anything else? Her nails ran across the small of his back. Fumbling with the button on his ripped jeans, she managed to get them undone. Marinette tugged at the band of his boxer briefs, his very erect cock popping out. 

The fact he didn’t have whiskey dick surprised the fuck out of Luka. He was _drunk as fuck_. And her hands, her lips, they felt so fucking _incredible_. Luka’s hands found their way onto the back of Marinette’s bobbing head. She looked up at him with those ocean eyes of hers, dick in her mouth. That was it. He _needed_ her. He removed her mouth from his erection and lifted her onto a chair. He tugged her pants and her down and off. She eagerly spread her legs for him.

If Marinette thought his fingers felt incredible⸺ _oh god his fucking tongue_. She tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping, tugging. Her brain was cloudy, thoughts swirling with everything Luka. And, _Oh god, Luka, right there_. Did she say that out loud? Was it okay to make noise in here? His tongue flicked across her clit, and dipped down into her wetness. She felt his lips close around her clit, lightly sucking. Her hips thrust upward to meet his fingers. In and out, in and out. “Luka,” she breathed, _“Fuck me.”_

His lips made their way upward, kisses trailing just behind his fingers as they pushed up her top. One hand slid up under her bra while the other deftly unhooked it. He took in the sight of Marinette’s humble chest, her pale pink nipples erect, and felt a rumble escape his throat. Without hesitation, he took her breast into his mouth, flicking her nipple with his tongue, insatiably suckling. He moved up to her neck, softly biting, then running his tongue along her jawline and crushing her lips with his. 

Marinette seized the opportunity to bite his lower lip and pull him closer. She rubbed herself against his dick and pushed his t-shirt upward. She wanted it off. “Please Luka,” she moaned as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Please fuck me.”

Her begging was almost too much for him; he wanted her so badly. All he saw was the woman of his dreams, begging him for everything he wanted in that moment. Yet, in a moment of sobriety, he quietly whispered into her ear, “Are you sure?”

She grabbed his ass, pulling his cock across her clit. Thrusting her hips aggresively, Marinette’s fingernails ran down his back. “Please. I’ve never wanted anything else.”

Permission granted, Luka picked her up by her ass and pressed her against the wall. Positioning himself, he guided the tip of his dick into her. She gasped, her eyes squeezing shut. “Do you want me to stop?” he breathed. He might’ve been drunk, but the last thing he wanted was to ruin his chances with the woman he loved. 

“Just fuck me,” Marinette growled, fingers curling tightly in his hair. 

Nodding, he pulled away and then slowly dipped further and further in, until the sounds she made were no longer painful. He thrust upward, her hips grinding against him. _She was so tight and so wet._ His tongue ran along her collarbone and up to her neck. He cradled her head and pulled her closer, sucking voraciously. 

Marinette wasn’t sure when or _how_ it happened, but they ended up on the floor, his hand ensuring her head wasn’t banging against the floor. His sexy smirk was almost too much for her. Running her fingers through his hair, she felt the tension building to an orgasm. 

Not ready for it to be over, Luka slowed down and teased her with the tip of his cock until she begged. He suddenly thrust hard and deep and slowly pulled out. Her gasps and moans and begging⸺god no not yet. With his free hand, he reached down and teased her clit. He felt her clench against his dick and her gasps quickened, raising in pitch. The next time her hips bucked upward, her body began to shudder against his and he felt her wetness explode all around his dick as she screamed his name. Marinette squirted; Luka filed that away for later. Goddamn she was fucking hot. Thrusting faster and faster, deeper and deeper, he trembled as he erupted inside and collapsed on top of her. 

Unsure of how long they laid like that, Marinette ran small circles with her fingertips on his back. She was beginning to sober up; she needed another drink because none of this was actually happening. 

It was funny. Her idea of the Apocalypse™ was no longer being ditched and feeling awkward with a stranger on the dance floor. It was way worse. And she wasn’t ready for it to happen yet. “Luka,” she whispered into his ear.

He turned his head and smirked that smoldering smirk Marinette was so fond of. “Marinette?”

“I need a drink.”

Nodding, Luka rolled off of the top of her and wiped himself off with his t-shirt. He tossed it to her to clean herself up. He pulled on his pants and his jacket and watched his woman⸺ _no she wasn’t his_ , he had to remind himself⸺dress herself. “I think I need another one too,” he replied after an extended period of time. The buzz was fading quickly. 

As they exited the room, Marinette noticed Luka palm the security guard something, probably money. They made their way back to the bar, finding Alya and Nino also ordering another round. Alya’s eyes met Marinette’s and a knowing smile graced her lips. Marinette flushed. 

*~*~*~*

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open. Something was weird. Something was off. The realization dawned on her that Luka was spooning her. In her bed. Under her blankets. They were naked. All of the events from the night before came flooding back rather vividly into her mind; she felt a lump build up in her throat. It really happened.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He propped his head up on his hand and smiled.

Swallowing the butterflies back down, she closed her eyes. It really happened. It wasn’t just a dream. And god she was thankful that she’d gotten an IUD when she and Adrien had become sexually active. Ugh. She shouldn’t have been thinking of Adrien while she was lying next to Luka. “Luka, not only did we not use protection, but you came _in_ me last night.”

“I’m clean,” he replied, removing his hand from her hip. “Did you want me to leave?”

Did she? No. She really didn’t. She never wanted him to leave again. And besides. They’d been drunk. How many long islands did he throw back? She couldn’t even count. “Please stay,” she whispered, reaching behind her for his hand. “I just⸺I don’t know. I’m sorry. We were both completely trashed out of our minds.”

“Did you want me to go to the pharmacy and grab plan b?” 

A small smile spread across her lips as she shook her head. That was sweet. She repositioned herself so that she was facing him. “I have an IUD. We’re good.” 

Luka let out an audible sigh of relief, his hand snaking its way back to hers, fingers interlocking. “I’m clean and you had protection. That’s good. Hope you’re clean too,” he winked.

Marinette rolled her eyes and involuntarily smiled. “So now what?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, letting his head fall back down to the pillow. He brushed her hair to the side, tucking it behind her ear. 

“Us.”

Luka nervously swallowed a frog in his throat and sighed. He knew she’d ask. And no matter how much he’d prepared himself for this moment over the last few days, it was nonetheless nerve wracking. “Marry me.”

Jaw dropping, Marinette’s eyes widened. She didn’t know how to reply. They barely knew each other anymore; how could he come back into her life out of nowhere, sleep with her, end up in her bed and then _propose_. This was too much. 

“Marinette, I knew I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. The feeling never changed. I tried to move on after I left, but I never could. And you looked happy; who was I to mess that up?” he paused, reading her facial expression. She was going through so many emotions. “Seeing you at the bar confirmed that my feelings never changed. I’ve always loved you, Marinette. And I want you to be my wife.”

“Luka⸺I⸺What am I supposed to say?” 

This was not The Apocalypse™ Marinette had anticipated. She wasn’t ditched at the club, not really. She woke up in Luka’s arms and he wasn’t breaking her heart. He was asking her to _marry_ him. So could she even really count this as The Apocalypse™?

“Yes. That’s what you’re supposed to say,” he playfully said, tapping her nose. _“Yes Luka, I’ll marry you and come on the road with you and never, ever leave your side.”_

She couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “First of all, your imitation of me is terrible. And second of all, I have a job here, and friends here. And my family is here. You’d ask me to leave all of that?”

“Alya told me you’re unhappy with your job,” he began, “So since I know you used to do work for my father when he still toured, I thought maybe you’d like to manage our stage look and our album covers. I already talked to the guys to make sure this was okay.”

“How long have you been planning this?” she snorted, a crease forming between her eyebrows.

“I’ve dreamt of this for a hot minute,” he began, “And I started planning it like, two days ago when I got to Paris. Juleka told Alya to hit me up.”

“What about my family and friends? I don’t want to leave them,” she narrowed her eyes. What would her parents think about her going off with a rockstar? Granted, it wasn’t just _any_ rockstar, it was _Luka_. They'd come to adore Luka, especially after he told her to stay home and finish school.

“How about this then? I’ll buy a house here and we can live here for most of the year. I’ll fly out to practice with the rest of the guys in person once a month and then when we tour, you can come along. If you want.”

Marinette was floored. Was he really willing to do all of this? For _her_? She breathed in. Younger her would’ve jumped on the opportunity without a second thought. She didn’t think about the consequences and just did what her heart told her to. Right now, her heart was screaming yes. But. 

On the plus side, it felt like they picked things up where they had been left off. Circumstances may have changed, but none of the feelings between them had. On the downside, what if they didn’t actually end up liking one another? What if they just liked the idea of one another?

Blush kissed her cheeks and a coy smile graced her lips. “Your breath is terrible.”

“I wasn’t going to bring it up, but so is yours.” Luka grinned and squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to decide right now.”

“Yes.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Yes?”

“Yes. Yes! _Yes!_ ,” Marinette exclaimed. “Don’t make me change my mind, Luka Couffaine.”

“You’ll really marry me?”

She gently kissed his lips and then scrunched her nose. “Only if you brush your teeth.”

**Author's Note:**

> Do you like reading Mirculous fanfiction? If yes, please come join our Discord server! If no, please disregard this message!
> 
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